


A Life in Your Shape

by aquasock



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquasock/pseuds/aquasock
Summary: "Traveling the winding pathways of Hyrule proved dangerous in two ways. The first was obvious. Monsters lurked behind every bush, desperate to tear him apart at any given opportunity. However, the second threat posed itself to do much more harm. Wandering the wilds gave him time to think. About himself. About his responsibilities. About his failures."Alternatively known as me attempting to dissect the loneliness that comes with such an expansive game map, and how that and all of the player's responsibilities must interact with Link's canonical anxiety.





	A Life in Your Shape

**Author's Note:**

> a quick warning!
> 
> the first thing i want to mention is that the summary quote is from a later chapter. i promise i'm not catfishing you.
> 
> second, i don't believe this fic to really be graphic so i didn't tag it that way. but there is definitely some depictions of serious injuries and one particular instance of a somewhat haphazardly done medical procedure. please be careful if that's something that could bother you!

Some days, the world felt impossibly wide.

Not always, of course. There were days in which Link was filled with a strange mix of pride, awe, and gratitude. He felt it most in stables and towns, deeply impressed by the people making a life 100 years after the end of the world and thankful there was at least something left for him to wake up to. He felt it following paths and knowing that someone had to be keeping them usable and free of 100 years of overgrowth. These minute moments made both his step and heart feel lighter. It made him feel as if he were not the only one struggling to keep a great darkness at bay.

However, some days the darkness seemed to overwhelm him. It was how he felt when alone in the Hebra mountains, the whistling of the wind and crunching of snow under his own boots the only sound he heard and the monotonous white around him all he saw. He spent nearly all his rupees on Pondo’s snowball bowling game after stumbling upon his cabin on a return trip from shrine searching, simply because he hadn’t seen another living person in days and an overly-competitive streak was a convincing enough reason not to leave. It was how he felt when he saw the ruins of towns and villages, dilapidated cottages next to fountains that had dried up. The worst were the ones in which the empty husks of guardians, now lifeless perhaps due to mere time, sat entangled with the remnants of these towns. Link wondered if they had contributed to the ruin. He wondered if the people had fled before they arrived, or if the guardians had massacred them and their remains had simply decomposed in the time it took for Link to wake. There was a morose and nauseating poetry to the citizens of these villages becoming one with the wild just as their home did. The thought made certain rounded scars on Link’s body ache with a burning sensation he could not place.

And it was his fault, wasn’t it? His brain argued amongst itself, demanding that claim to be both unfair and incredibly warranted at the same time. After all, who was to say the villages he observed wouldn’t be teeming with life had he won against the Calamity a century ago. 

He couldn’t even remember what had gone wrong. That, quite possibly, was what stung the most. Perhaps he was doomed to endlessly repeat mistakes. 

Link managed to tear his eyes from one such village, pot lid and bow clambering together upon his back as he hurried back to find the path. In the distance he heard the beeping of a guardian, close enough to the edge of Hyrule field for safety but not for comfort. He hadn’t gotten a chance to pick up his horse, a stunning white stallion that reminded him near exactly of one of the horses in his fragmented memories. He’d registered it under the name of Zelda, which had gained him a strange look from the stable attendant, but mentally reassured himself it would serve as a mere placeholder. He planned to give the horse to Zelda as soon as she was free.

If he could ever free her.

His boots thumped heavily as he jogged along the dirt path, shaking his head as if doing so would serve to clear the unpleasant thought from his mind. Focus on something else. Pulling the device from his belt, Link found the Sheikah Slate referred to the ruins as Mabe village. He’d set out on a path to Goron City, aiming to pick up some Goron spice per someone’s request. He couldn’t quite remember whose. He’d have to check the Sheikah Slate on the return trip, and thanked Hylia that he wrote his errands and who had requested them down. Gritting his teeth, he tucked the slate back into its place on his belt and resolved to cut through the grass and head for the Rebonae bridge. It seemed to be the option farthest from the castle that didn’t involve backtracking. 

Long blades of grass thwipped against his front as he hurried, wary of how close he was to a number of guardians. He needed to pick up a good shield, figuring his pot lid would shatter if called upon to reflect a guardian’s blast back at it. Feet hit dirt road again when he felt the all too familiar warmth of a target on his back, and Link reasoned that Hylia must have had a sick sense of humor. Turning, he found a guardian looming behind him, gangly metal legs straddling the path he walked. He raised an arm, pot lid feebly covering the red circle pointed squarely at his chest. Link hoped to find Daruk present, the glow of his protection encircling him, but knew all too well he’d wasted it a half an hour before on a Bokoblin. His eyes narrowed as they met the guardian’s single one, burning the bright blue of an ancient technology he’d never hope to understand. Inhaling deeply, he watched as it prepared to shoot, and as it fired steadied himself to deflect its blow. 

At the very least, his pot lid did not shatter.

Unfortunately, it was because his timing was off. A great ball of burning agony wound up in his chest so tightly he feared he was about to explode. It rippled through his body, waves of insurmountable pain crashing into the rest of his limbs from fingers to toes. He could feel himself falling, but never felt himself hit the ground. Hyrule faded to black quickly, before Link’s mind could even process what was happening to him and, thankfully, before it could berate itself about letting the world down for a second time.

Mere seconds passed before Link heard Mipha’s voice, head pounding too much to understand her words. He lay on his side, face down in a mixture of gravel and dirt, and was all too aware of the sound of a guardian readying to fire a second time. Scrambling to his feet, Link decided it fit to sprint, flying down the path in zigzags. A beam struck the grass next to him, lighting it aflame. Panic worked its way through his body like a poison through bloodstream, infecting his mind and his lungs, neither of which operating as they should. His breath came out a hyperventilating rasp, and his thoughts raced. Goron spice was not worth this trip. He’d go the long way next time.

Link sprinted until he could no longer hear the guardian, racing across Rebonae bridge like it was a finish line. His feet slowing, he leaned against one of the frames to catch his breath. He didn’t hear the poof behind him, nor the scream of a bystander walking the length of the bridge, above the sound of his own desperate, raspy breaths and the rushing water below. He noticed all too late that someone was standing behind him, only moments before he felt an arrow tear into his right arm. 

Yiga clan. Astute timing, as always.

Reaching back, his trembling left hand gripped tightly around the hilt of the master sword. He charged, swinging with abandon. A mere three strikes was all it took for Link to turn his adversary into another plume of smoke, a single banana all that was left in his wake. With the master sword, these fights tended to happen quite quickly. They were more bothersome than true, fearful opponents, which made Link’s new injury all the more infuriating. 

Sheathing the master sword, he dragged himself off of the bridge and plopped into the nearest patch of grass, next to a hill left of the path. A stable lie mere yards away, but Link had grown tired of dragging himself limping into stables. He’d found it was best not to expect any of the stable workers or patrons to be capable of medical aid, and was often instead met with doting concern and crowds that made everything worse. Not everyone knew sign, and that made it hard to communicate his needs, be it space or bandages. Tossing his pack on the ground, he rummaged through until he found some wood and flint. He dropped both into a heap a few feet in front of him and struck the pile with the master sword, chiding himself internally for wearing it down. The wood burst into flame, a cozy warmth in the evening breeze. 

His hand shook even more than it had during the fight as he reached to grip the arrow protruding from his arm. Link briefly wondered if, a century ago, he’d known the proper etiquette for removing an arrow, before yanking it out of his arm with a throaty noise of agony. He thanked Hylia that the arrowhead hadn’t broken off inside of his arm.

Nostrils flaring and teeth clenched, he placed the blade of his sword into the flames. He held it there for a while, counting the numbers of lightning bugs and flowers around him in a feeble attempt to keep his mind from what he was about to do to himself. Link noticed the silent princess only a few feet away, making a mental note to add it to his pack later.

When he assumed the blade to be hot enough, he pulled it from the flame, admiring the red hot glow for just a moment. Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Link pressed the flat of the blade against his wound. He tried and failed holding in his throat’s gurgling attempt at a scream. His vision went black for a moment and he nearly dropped the blade, before blinking away unconsciousness and steadying his grip. He held on for a few moments, before the scent of burning flesh wafted up to him and he dropped the blade overcome with lightheadedness. It took several minutes of concentrated breaths before he regained composure, albeit his body still shook like a leaf. He sheathed the master sword, still warm against his back, using his foot to stamp out the remains of the fire. While sure he could power through the pain, Goron city did have a healer were worse to come to worst. The trek took two days at most, and so he decided it best to head out immediately.

Shaky steps took him to the stable, the attendant staring in concern. Link doubted he could have heard him, and thus supposed the concern was simply because didn’t look so hot. “Are you alright, sir?” he asked. Link nodded, giving a weak smile. The attendant did not look convinced, but didn’t press the matter either. “Then welcome! Welcome to our fine stable! Do you want to register a horse? Take one out for a ride? How can I help?”

‘Take,’ Link signed, outstretched hand forming a fist as he brought it to his chest. The attendant nodded.

“Which horse do you want to take out?” he asked, as if Link had more than one. He wondered if the man simply wanted to gawk at his choice of name.

‘Z-E-L-D-A,’ he finger-spelled, and while the man blinked a few times, he again did not comment. 

“All right, let me handle the paperwork and we’ll get you settled,” he said cheerfully, heading to the back. Link waited, leaning against the desk as he looked out across the river. He could see the castle in the fading orange light of sunset, Calamity and malice encircling it. He felt suddenly and deeply uncomfortable, no longer capable of blaming the attendant even if he had wanted to gawk. He had a perfect view of Zelda’s prison near constantly, and if he had half a sense as to who Link was he’d know it was his fault. Her name didn’t deserve to lie upon his fingers. None of the champions’ names did.

Unaware of his client’s sudden self-loathing, the attendant brought the white stallion around. “And there you go!” he told Link, smiling. “Thanks for choosing us for all your horsey needs.”

Link thanked him, his hand moving outwards from his chin, before hopping onto his horse’s back and tapping its side with his foot. The horse bounded forward at a speed that made Link feel as if his bones were rattling. He wondered if riding a horse had been a bad idea in his state, burying his face in the horses mane and hands weakly clinging to the reins. However he felt as if he was flying, confident he would get there ages faster this way. It would give him time to rest before his inevitable climb of Death Mountain, as he couldn’t bring Zelda with him in such intense heat. 

Face still buried in his horse’s mane, Link found his eyelids heavy and drifted into uneasy sleep, woken numerous times by his horse attempting to wander off path and needing to be soothed. He blearily noted Vah Ruta sitting atop a mountain miles away, the beam of light extending from its trunk passing directly over his head. He faded in and out of consciousness after that point, unable to note much more about his surroundings until fully awakening and realizing he was in East Akkala. And it was morning already.

He swore inwardly, pulling at the reins until his horse trotted to a stop. Hoping to see exactly what time it was, he reached to pull the Sheikah Slate from his belt. However immediately upon use his arm felt as though on fire, and Link dropped the slate. It landed on the ground with a sickening crunch, and Link felt his heart in his throat. Slowly hopping off of his horse and careful not to move his arm, he bent to slowly pick the slate up. The screen was shattered, a cobweb of broken glass now in its place. The map, while technically visible, was discolored and unreadable. Link balanced the slate against his chest, trying to find some way to press buttons with only one hand. However, no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t get the screen to move off of the map. No more pictures. No more anything.  
Tears of both frustration and abject horror as to what this meant for his memories, the runes he used so often, and any remaining towers and shrines welled in his eyes. Link was sure Purah was going to murder him, and this time there would be no shrine of resurrection. Her rage would likely make her capable of defeating Ganon herself, no idiot hero necessary. Maybe he was doing Hyrule a favor.

Miserably, he hooked the broken Sheikah Slate back into his belt and mounted his horse. His arm screamed at him as he did so, and sparing it a quick glance Link quickly realized something was terribly wrong. The whole area surrounding the wound he had cauterized was swollen and pink. He also noted he was shivering. Infection? It would be just his luck at this point. For the first time since waking up, he wished there was a monster in the immediate vicinity. He had never wanted to hit something with his sword so bad. 

Jabbing his foot into his horse’s side, it took off again in the direction it had come. Link felt guilty, wondering if the horse was anywhere near as exhausted as he was. He could head to Robbie, the lighthouse wasn’t far, but the thought of encountering the guardian that sat waiting at the lighthouse’s entrance seized Link with terror almost as badly as the thought of explaining why his slate was broken did. He’d head to Goron city, perhaps see if anyone at the stable was selling a healing potion to help him get there. 

He tried and failed not to think too hard about the fact that he’d just spent all of Mipha’s healing for the time being. If he died again, it would be permanent. 

Link pulled on his horses reins, his horse halting as soon as it finished crossing over the bridge. He stared up at the two waterfalls cascading down the mountains that surrounded Zora’s domain. Zora’s domain was infinitely closer than Goron city, but he wasn’t sure if he could swim, or if he could even get the Zora armor on. Gingerly, he peeled his champion’s tunic from his torso, realizing just how feverishly sweaty he was when the armor stuck to his skin. His arm ached with a pain that nearly rivaled being hit by a guardian’s beam as he finally pulled the tunic off of himself, fishing for his Zora armor in his supply pack. Taking a deep breath he pulled it over his head, teeth immediately grinding together as he got his arms through the sleeves. He decided he didn’t need to change pants or add the helm, in enough pain as it was. His pants would dry.

‘I will come back,’ he signed at his horse, the latter wholly unresponsive. Groaning lowly, he pulled an apple from his pack and set it before his horse, giving it one last pet before slowly making his way toward the water. 

He leaped in, immediately gasping at the temperature of the water. He had felt cold prior to getting in, but now he was absolutely positive he was going to die. The Zora armor helped him paddle, predominantly kicking his way over to where the waterfall was and struggling to fight the current. He began swimming upwards, a task that was significantly easier than swimming horizontally. It was as if the armor was doing most of the work for him. He leaped out of the waterfall as soon as he reached the top, grabbing for his paraglider and almost instantly regretting doing so. Link dropped the paraglider, landing on dry grass and clutching at his arm. Just a few more moments and he’d be in Zora’s domain. He could ask around for a healer, he was sure if he talked to Sidon and maybe paid a few rupees they’d get him in to see someone quickly.

A large rock stood in his way, behind which he knew lied the top of a waterfall and an easy glide into the domain. He kneeled, left hand very slowly raising. ‘Revali,’ Link slowly spelled. It was a plead, hoping his spirit was in a giving mood. Link felt the gust of wind around him immediately, the blue outline of the very Rito he’d called out to appearing beside him and lifting him above the rock. Link was glad Revali didn’t comment on his state, not that he tended to have much of a conversation with any of the champions when they were helping him out. Their appearances were brief and often wordless. He wished he could spend a few more moments with them. Or at least remember the moments he did spend with them. 

Ignoring his injury’s protests to the best of his abilities, Link sailed to the edge of the waterfall, feet meeting beautifully polished blue stone. He stared down at the domain, the giant fish a more comforting sight than ever. Bracing himself, he gripped onto the paraglider one last time before leaping off. His body sagged as he jumped, and all too quickly everything fell apart. 

His arm gave out, unable to hold his weight any longer nor stand the force of his jump. This caused him to lose his grip on the paraglider entirely, toppling head first into the water below. He’d jumped from Shatterback Point and knew definitively that a fall from this height into water would not kill him. However the dark spots that tinged on the edges of his vision didn’t seem like a good sign. Unconsciousness took him before he hit the water, and this time it stayed with him for a very long time.

…

Something was very wrong.

Link had not been anywhere near a bed this soft in weeks, opting for the cheapest stable beds he could get and occasionally the ground. The silk sheets that framed his body felt entirely foreign. Had he been captured? He didn’t feel the master sword at his back or in his hands. Could it have been stolen? As a matter of fact, he didn’t feel any of his weapons in the immediate vicinity, nor his supply pack, nor the Sheikah Slate.

That last one didn’t matter anymore, it was unusable.

Oh. It rushed back quickly, the memories of the guardian and Yiga clan member he’d fought, coupled with his botched attempt at taking care of his injury and the chaos that followed. He remembered dropping the Sheikah Slate, he remembered tumbling without a paraglider as his consciousness waned.

Link’s eyes snapped open, assaulted by blinding blues and whites. His head pounded, as did his arms, and most strangely his chest. He’d been shot by the guardian there, yes, but it ached in an entirely different way much lower than that wound. It hurt in a way that made breathing near impossible, shallow rasps all he could manage. Blinking, he attempted to get up, but was met by hands much larger than his wrapped around his shoulders gently pushing him back down. “Hey! It’s ok! You are quite safe now,” a familiar voice said. Link’s left hand reached to wipe at his eyes until the blurriness had gone away. Blearily, he glanced over. Sidon sat next to him offering a warm smile. “How are you feeling?”

He thought about it for a moment.

‘Hurt,’ he said with shaky hands, pointer fingers twisting around each other. 

“What hurts?” asked Sidon, brow furrowed.

Link weakly gestured at his chest and arm, both of which he now realized had been bandaged. Then he waved in the direction of his head, but quickly devolving into waving his hand over his whole body. 

“That bad, huh?” Sidon asked, chuckling. “I’ll request the healers give you something for the pain.”

Link paused. ‘How long was I sleeping?’ he asked, finger-spelling the words that required two hands, as merely lifting a finger to say the word hurt had sent a bone-deep ache rippling through his arm.

Sidon frowned, as if debating on how to put his answer. He looked somewhere to the right of Link, and Link craned his neck to see what he was staring at. It was a window, and Link realized that they were underwater. “Three days,” Sidon said gently. 

Link’s eyes widened, and panic overtook him. His hand flew to his temple, signing, ‘Horse,’ desperately over and over. 

“Horse?” Sidon asked, hands outstretched as if concerned Link would leap up. “What horse? Your horse?” Link nodded. “What about it?”

‘Left,’ Link signed. ‘Behind mountain.’ 

“The ones behind us?” Sidon asked. “We found you at the base of them.”

Link nodded once again.

“I’ll send someone to fetch it,” Sidon said. “And work on talking to the healers. I’ll be right back.” He rose from his chair, towering over the bed as he turned and headed toward the door. Sidon pulled it shut behind him before Link could get a glimpse of what lie outside. 

However, now more awake, he took stock of the room. It was made of varying shades of blue limestone, much like the rest of the domain. It reminded him vaguely of the Seabed Inn, but the room itself was significantly smaller and had only his bed. There were no openings either, clear glass with crisscrossing diamond-shaped grilles in their place. Link watched a hearty bass swim past, its shadow reflected onto the floor in the light warbled by water. He wondered how deep he was, and how they’d gotten him down there.

Link noted a dresser sat against the wall across from his bed. Atop it was a lamp, fish-shaped like many of the vases he’d seen in the domain, and topped with the familiar glow of a luminous stone. The master sword sat propped against it, and he noted his pack and clothes laying neatly next to the lamp. 

For a moment he was tempted to grab his things and leave. However, he had to admit his body felt like it had been tossed against a wall my a Hinox a few times, and he doubted very much that his legs would take him far. 

Before he could think of an alternative escape route, one in which he perhaps scooted out of the domain on his ass, the door swung open and Sidon reentered. He was trailed by a woman a foot or so shorter than him, white and red bands winding around her blue arms. Link noted a belt around her waist, various syringes, bottles, and a scalpel hanging from it. 

“Gaddison volunteered to go and retrieve your horse,” Sidon informed, “and Bazz left a few days a few days ago with that slate you carry.” 

Link froze, an overwhelming sense of terror gripping him. So the Zora had seen the Sheikah Slate. There was something near unbearable about the newfound publicity of his mistake. His left hand tightened into a fist, unsure of how to begin defending himself or reassure that he could still, somehow, defeat Calamity Ganon without it. 

However, Sidon didn’t seem to notice his horror him as he continued. “My father suggested he take it to the ancient tech lab on the outskirts of Hateno. Apparently there is a researcher there who may know how to repair the screen.”

‘Purah,’ Link spelled, the shame only mounting. ‘She will be mad.’

Sidon frowned. “I sincerely doubt so. My friend, you were grievously injured. Beyond that, even.” His uneasy glance toward the Zora woman behind him was not missed by Link. She cleared her throat, reaching to pull a vial from her belt. Handing it to Sidon, she gave a small nod at Link.

“This should help with your pain, but it will still take time for you to heal so I ask you stay in bed. Drink the entirety of the tonic, preferably as soon as possible. I’ll allow the both of you some privacy.”  
Link wondered what unspoken Vah Ruta in the room was driving her out. She was gone as quickly as she’d entered, the door closing behind her. Sidon buried his face in his hands. 

“I heard you fall,” he said simply, his voice small. There was a pause, and for a brief moment Link thought he had finished speaking. Before he could ask Sidon to elaborate, the latter sat up and looked him directly in the eyes. “Not many scale the mountains behind our kingdom, and thus I feared it to be a Lizalfos approaching. When I went to investigate, I found you floating face-down in the water.” Link wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the prince so close to tears, only occasionally when he’d caught him staring at the statue of Mipha in the center of town. “You weren’t breathing, Link. Nor did you have a heartbeat.”

Oh.

Sidon curled inward, arms clutching his chest as if afraid to put them anywhere else. “I immediately took you to solid ground and attempted to administer chest compressions, but my hands are so much bigger than your torso and almost immediately I felt your ribs crush. Link, I am so sorry.”

Link tried to piece together exactly why Sidon was apologizing. Did he feel guilty? Even Hylians could break one another’s ribs during CPR, in fact the two practically came hand in hand. A few broken ribs were most certainly better than death. ‘You saved me,’ Link simply signed, unsure of how to unpack all of that with only one good hand. ‘Thank you.’ 

Sidon broke with a wet sniffle, Link trying hard not to flinch at the sound. “You were dead! I was so scared we were going to lose you.”

Link frowned. For a moment he debated telling Sidon that it hadn’t the first time his heart had stopped, not even in that day, and it would likely not be the last. However he realized that would not be in any way comforting, and so he reached with his left arm to pat at one of Sidon’s hands. It was awkward, as he could barely reach, but Sidon looked up with a tearful smile. 

The smile only made Link feel worse. He mentally tacked on an exasperated again to Sidon’s last statement. Link understood completely why Sidon was scared. He had a century’s worth of hopes and dreams riding on him, the weight of his colossal failure on his shoulders. Were he to die, who would make things right? He couldn’t let Hyrule down a second time. But the past few days had certainly made him feel as though that was his destiny. His own body, the infection that had caused him to pass out as he fell, had bested him. If he was capable of ruining himself so easily, Calamity Ganon would dispense of him in a mere instant. 

Link moved his hand from Sidon’s, bringing it gingerly to his chest in a closed fist and rubbing in circles. ‘Sorry,’ he said, endlessly, as if the circles on his chest would somehow absolve him and wipe him clean. Sorry, sorry, sorry. 

Sidon took his hand, Link’s fitting so easily within his, and stopped it in its tracks. “There is no need to be. I am simply overjoyed that you are alright and awake now. Quickly, drink your tonic,” he said, his trading his hand for the small vial. Link took it, raising his neck slightly to sip. Sidon held his head as he did so before gently lowering it back down and taking the empty vial when he had finished. 

‘Tastes like shit.’

Sidon laughed, a hearty laugh that gave Link the same feeling in his chest as a well-played note in a very good song. “Well, I don’t think it’s meant to taste like a hot buttered apple.”

Link pursed his lips. He hadn’t noticed how hungry he was until Sidon had mentioned dessert. ‘Food?’ he asked, a small plea.

“If you think you can handle solid foods, then I’ll see what I can do,” Sidon said. “That is, after you rest. The tonic you just drank should make you a bit drowsy.”

‘I just woke up,’ Link frowned, staring up at Sidon. He lowered his hand, thumb restlessly drumming against his thigh.

Sidon gave him a pitiful look. “You must allow yourself to heal.”

‘When can I leave?’

There was a pause after his words, seconds turning to what felt like hours. A heaviness lingered in the air, and Link realized how ungrateful his question had seemed especially given how forcefully he’d signed it. Sidon looked almost wounded.

“Your hospital bed or Zora’s domain?”

Link supposed he had already been rude. Why stop now. ‘Both.’

Sidon frowned. “It depends on your recovery. You’re on antibiotics at the moment, meant to fight the infection caused by that horrible wound.” He gestured weakly at Link’s bandaged arm. “I assume the doctors will want you to stay until fully healed, so perhaps another week? But then broken ribs take much longer to heal, a few weeks.”

‘I am busy.’ He signed, hand wavering. Hylia, he sounded horrible. ‘Have to fight,’ he backtracked, attempting to explain. ‘Have to save…’ 

He didn’t know how to finish that statement. Saying Hyrule made sense. Zelda even more so, the guilt stinging more than his wounds. The thought of simply saying “you” in reference to the Zora… or perhaps Sidon specifically… crossed his mind for an odd reason, but he pushed it away. Sidon gave him a knowing look despite the fact he didn’t finish his sentence.

“I understand your urge to defeat Calamity Ganon. I truly do, Link, but Hyrule has waited this long.”

Don’t remind him.

“I am positive the world can wait a few mere weeks for you to be as physically healthy and prepared as possible for your assault on Hyrule Castle. You must allow yourself to heal.”

Link frowned, now very aware of the fact he was unlikely to be getting his way. He let out a sigh, or the closest thing to a sigh he could muster given his broken ribs, and signed a simple “OK.” Feeling the effects of the tonic beginning to settle in, he allowed his head to lull to the side. Sidon took that as a sign to leave and rose from his seat. As he approached the door, Link felt the guilt of where he’d left their conversation weighing on him. Curling his left hand into a fist, he hit the wall beside him twice sending two loud bangs echoing through the room. Sidon turned, startled.

‘S…’ he signed, too tired to spell his entire name. ‘Thank you.’

Sidon’s concern faded into a smile, big and genuine like the doofus he was. “Of course.”

Link didn’t bother to watch him leave, eyes instead bailing on him and drifting shut. As soon as this tonic wore off, he promised to work on that escape plan.

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter was so much heavy exposition - i promise there's much more meaningful emotional comfort and different character interactions coming


End file.
